On Sick Days
by LoveLaysDying
Summary: One Shot: Dave is down with a terrible flu and is forced to, once again, depend on Bro. Do not read if you do not like sick Dave. Bro / Dave Strider, Stridercest. Rated M for the ending and, well, sick Dave. Moderate emetophilia warning .


Everything seemed so hazy, and gross. 'Gross' as in no matter where Dave looked, even when he had his eyes closed, he felt nauseous. He was on the floor, huddled before the toilet and trying to catch his breath. His head was pounding…his stomach was turning…he felt like his fever was burning him far past 100 degrees. Just when he thought he could sit up straight, bile, semi-digested food, and gastric juices came rushing up…up and out.

The first time he missed and the room smelled horrible because of that. Imagine…sleeping on your nice, warm futon, breathing hot breaths in and out of your mouth because you are sick…then, as if on a whim, the urge to puke comes. Dave almost made it, yes, almost…but not quite. Now, splayed across the bathroom floor was a splash of vomit, still stinking, still hot.

Where was Bro? Dave wondered…he had left earlier this morning, with a simple, 'I'm heading out.' How long ago was that? Dave couldn't remember…everything was so blurry and hot and tiring. He was sweating, his hair was greasy and his bangs were slick against his forehead. He was wearing one of his brother's old shirts, a black top his Bro affectionately called a wifebeater. That too was damp with perspiration. And his stomach, oh how his stomach ached. Every move, every heave, just made it worse, made the cramps turn.

It was so painful, so painful…Dave wouldn't cry. He couldn't, it was not allowed. But he wanted to…he wanted to curl into a little ball and let himself sob, it hurt so much. He thought it was safe to rise, but again he lunged forward, nearly falling into the toilet, and let loose a torrent of awful-tasting vomit.

Nothing was sanitary at this point, and Dave rested his forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl. It felt nice…so cool…his fever was relentless and he swore he saw himself steaming when he had looked in the mirror. Of course…everything looked like it was steamy, or wavy, or hazy and blurry. How long did he stay there? Did he fall asleep? He easily lost track of time, snapping back to reality when he heard the front door opening.

He threw himself to the bathroom door, slamming it shut and locking it. Leaning his back against it, he slid to the floor, regretting moving at all now as his tummy gave him hell…and he was sitting in his own puke too. Closing his eyes, brow furrowed, he struggled to keep his breathing normal.

He sat there, hoping, wishing…willing Bro to ignore him or to not notice him or…anything! He couldn't face Bro like this…but it was never that easy. A knock came at the door. Dave froze, opening his bleary eyes. For the moment, all he heard was his own ragged breathing.

"Dave," Bro's chill voice came from behind the door, completely flat and relaxed. Dave looked around for the first time realizing how messy it really was. There was dried puke on his knees and palms, and wet puke where he was sitting and along the floor. Amidst his lamenting, he started to drool and the feeling of warm saliva dribbling down his chin brought him back. "Dave!"

"Just a minute…" He mustered himself up, looking for a towel. Naturally, there wasn't one. Things were just never that easy…ever. He resorted to toilet paper, quickly scooping up what he could, pushing it all together to be done away with…but he ran out. Where was the spare roll? There was no spare roll. He clutched his forehead, messily pushing his bangs up as he thought of what to do…what to do…what do to…do to what? He couldn't think straight; everything was too much.

"…Dave?" He turned, greeted with the mortifying fact that Bro was suddenly standing behind him…looming over him…judging him? He had a few bags in hand, grocery bags. Dave was trying to catch his breath to say something when he noticed there were now two Bros…two Bros? No, they looked like holograms. And they were connected at the feet. They started to sway, or was that Dave? Dave saw their mouths moving but he heard nothing. His head felt heavy…all he could do was meekly apologize before fading out of consciousness.

Being unconscious was strange. He awoke to find himself on the floor before the futon. His legs were propped up on two pillows. This was how to treat someone who was unconscious. Thinking back, he recalled feeling heavy and dull as if he was tightly wrapped in fabric. That must have been whatever his brain managed to remember when fainted.

He had fainted…he had fainted…the words bounced in his head as the horror struck him: he had fainted, probably landed in half-cleaned vomit. Another thought struck him, and it was just as horrifying as the first – where was Bro's wifebeater!

Dave sat up, panicking. He was wearing fresh clothes, warm and scented. They must have just been laundered. But where was Bro's childhood top? Wait, he was changed. Bro changed him. He was at danger of fainting again, his mind a jumbled, panicked mess. When he stood, he realized he couldn't. His knees buckled and he landed hard on the futon.

There, beside where he was lying moments ago was a plate. It had a small bottle of Pepto-Bismol, a glass of apple juice, and a simple sandwich, cut diagonally and without crusts…just how Dave liked it. Slowly, he reached out and took a swig of the pink medicine. He didn't feel up for food right now, though, and just took sips of the sweet, fruit beverage. Calming his thoughts, or at the very least, ignoring them, he wondered where Bro was.

Looking back, he saw the bathroom light was on. He saw Bro's shadow moving about on the projected light and cringed. He judged Bro was cleaning, given he had a long stick…a mop…which he was moving about, while he bent over here and there. Wilting away, Dave lost even the appetite for his favourite drink. He couldn't help it but his eyes started to water. He felt small, he felt useless, like he couldn't even help himself out…Bro had to come to his rescue once more.

When he sensed Bro's presence, near him, behind him…again, looming over him, Dave let his tears fall quietly. And, in a tiny, cracked voice, he said, "Sorry, Bro…I didn't mean to…" For a while, he swore he could feel Bro examining him, like he always did, before he heard Bro walk away.

He sniffled, still feeling drained, still feeling puffy. But he was exhausted now. He just woke up from fainting and before that he must've puked his body weight. There were neatly folded blankets on the other end of the futon. Taking the pillows off the floor, he made himself comfy, or rather…hid himself under everything and went to sleep.

It was a restless, horrible nap. He woke up when he couldn't stand the heat anymore. The blankets practically made the human radiator known as sick Dave broil himself. He sat up, throwing the blankets off of himself. It was darker now, late evening. The sun was setting and the hazy light now matched the hazy condition of Dave's mind. His fever didn't go down none – if anything, it was higher now.

His fever had also taken another turn for the worse: Dave felt cool…he felt cold…he shivered. Shivering…? Dave didn't need to feel his own forehead to know he was burning up. He was experiencing a cold sweat, he reasoned. He pulled the blankets back up from his feet and glanced about.

He nearly gasped when he realized Bro was behind him. Bro was sitting at Dave's head, beside the pillows, sleeping. He had his arms crossed, head lowered. At his feet sat a bucket and in one hand, a facecloth. It looked dampened. Dave felt a mix of feelings when he put the two together and realized that, even while Dave slept, Bro was caring for him.

It was touching…he almost felt…cared about, he almost felt loved…alas, he didn't allow himself to feel that. He tried his best to be independent of Bro but always seemed to need him. Lying back down, Dave awkwardly tried to keep a safe distance from his brother's lap.

"Awake finally?" Dave stiffened at Bro's inquiry.

"Sorry if I woke you," It seemed Dave was doing a lot of apologizing lately. And yet, past the shaking and uneven breathing, he still felt like it wasn't enough.

"Don't worry about it. How're ya feelin'?" Bro seemed to let his drawl go when he was first waking. They did live in Houston, Texas, after all.

"Shitty," Dave winced when his sore stomach returned, full-force. It started turning and twisting again and oh god why…Dave clutched his belly.

"Done puking, you think?" Bro looked down at his little brother…taking the dampened facecloth, he wiped away sweat from Dave's forehead.

"I wouldn't be too sure…but I haven't eaten anything, so I guess," He felt like crying again. Talking was a chore and his stomach wasn't settling in the slightest. It hurt…though the cool cloth was nice. He felt out of place for a second there, not used to such tenderness, but the pain quickly overtook Dave's thoughts.

Bro noticed how much pain Dave was in. His heart wasn't being torn to shreds by that fact, though. Rather, he was almost…curious. Inquisitive was more accurate – this was just another condition in which he could observe Dave. Someone had to stay clear-headed, after all.

Tentatively, Bro lifted the pillow and slid over, under the pillow and Dave's head. Dave withdrew. "Bro, what are you…"

"Don't speak if it hurts," Bro said, ignoring Dave. He lowered the pillow onto his lap, Dave not resting his head yet. "I'm not going to do anything."

Dave slowly lowered his head, still shivering, still holding his stomach. Bro dabbed at Dave's forehead again. Sliding a hand beneath the blankets, it came to rest on Dave's belly. It looked as if Dave was about to say something, again, but when Bro started to rub in slow circles, he stopped. "I don't get it,"

"You asked me to do this last time you were sick and it seemed to work," Bro wasn't paying much attention to Dave. He was watching the TV, idly at that. Dave couldn't deny it did help him feel better, in some way. Dave thought back…to the last time he was sick. It must have been when he was a child, because he didn't remember it.

"Tell me about it," He said after a long silence; his voice was scratchy. He was also shaking, and every so often, he jerked…slightly.

"Hm?" Bro looked down at him.

"Tell me about…the last time I was sick. I don't remember it," He said, looking up and returning Bro's gaze. He didn't have his sunglasses on, though. Bro did. In the shiny black reflection, Dave saw, just before Bro looked away, how much of a mess he was. Dave's hair was in terrible condition; it wasn't feathery, light, and shiny. No, it was sweaty and stuck in group strands. His eyes were puffy and he was paler than usual.

"You were five. We just got home from the mall, from a date. You got food poisoning from where we ate and had a really bad stomach ache. I sued the place, of course. Helped us pay for this apartment." Dave smirked, staring up at the ceiling. Slowly, vaguely, memories started to come back. "We were on this very futon, actually. You were curled up on my lap and demanded that I rub your belly. So I did."

Dave nodded slowly. After a few moments of silence, he asked. "What next?"

"Nothing; you fell asleep and I couldn't move without you getting grumpy. So I just lifted you onto my chest and lay down, went to sleep." Bro spoke casually, simply. Dave sort of…frowned. It saddened him somewhat to know that him and his brother were so freely intimate at one point.

"So that's it, I was done being sick?"

"Nope – At like, four in the morning, you puked all over me and made the hugest fucking mess." Bro didn't sound angry, no…he sounded almost…like he was joking with the barest air of joviality.

"Ah…" Dave laughed half of a laugh, but felt shame for the most part. Even this didn't slip by Bro.

"C'mon, you were five," He said, looking down.

"I guess; still feel bad about it," Dave looked into those shades. If he stared hard enough, Bro's eyes could just faintly be seen.

"Why? It was so long ago," Bro forced a sneer. The corner of Dave's mouth twitched up ever so in a slight grin.

"You're right. I feel worse about today." And with that, Bro looked away. Dave felt his self-confidence drop.

"Listen, Dave…if you're sick, you're sick. No big deal." Bro hadn't stopped massaging Dave's tummy in those slow, gentle, relaxing circles.

"Was it really bad, the bathroom?" Dave kept his focus on the older Strider's face. He kept watch for any sort of expression or micro-reaction.

"Nah, nothing I couldn't handle." Stopping, Dave considered what to say next.

"Bro…?" He asked. Bro looked down. "Thanks,"

Bro paused, for the smallest moment, before saying, "Don't mention it." He leaned forward a sliver of an inch, but that was all Dave needed. He propped himself up on an elbow, reaching up and resting his hand on Bro's cheek. He enticed Bro forward, down into a kiss. It was brief, no more than 3 seconds.

Dave's lips were dry and chapped. They were hot too. Bro pulled back to scan Dave's face. Dave was doing the same. As if on cue, they both thought 'screw it' and kissed again. The hint of cherry Pepto-Bismol lingered in Dave's mouth and thank god for the apple juice…there wasn't even a tiny bit of pukey taste. Dave got up, leaning forward, one hand on Bro's lap to support him.

Things were going good until he felt that sickly urge again. He broke the kiss, about to say something, but was cut off by Bro closing the distance. Dave literally shoved Bro away…but not in time. A stream of bile squirted out from between their lips as Bro leaped back. Dave scrambled to his feet, hand clutched over his mouth as he tried to keep it back. It burned in his nose.

He fell once, trying his hardest to sprint to the bathroom. He saw Bro's feet beside him as started to get up and thought that was it, Bro would snap him like a twig for puking in his mouth. And yet…he didn't. Dave was lifted off the floor and he found himself in front of the toilet suddenly. He formed a question, but didn't ask it. He couldn't as he was retching again.

His stomach had nothing left in it; it was dry heaves now, dry heaves and bile. In the breaks between his gags and little bursts of gastric juices, he almost managed an apology. Bro was kneeling beside him, patting his back. It would be a long night…

A few hours had passed. Eventually, they found themselves huddled together against the bathroom wall. Dave was clinging to Bro's shirt, still shivering uncontrollably. Bro was holding him, resting his chin against Dave's head…one particularly awful jerk woke Bro. He shifted, getting comfortable again.

"S-sorry…" Dave managed. Bro just sighed.

"Dave, stop apologizing. You're my responsibility, now stop." The force in his voice had Dave cringe. "But you still feel bad…" Dave nodded meekly, his head throbbing. "Well…" Bro paused, thinking. Dave had a sneaking suspicion what he was about to get at (it didn't help he could feel something a little larger than usual in Bro's pants - must've been all the cuddling.) "How about you make it up to me,"

Dave sat back, giving Bro a look that was one part confused, two parts disbelief. "But Bro…I'm sick, isn't that a problem or something?" He was asking for Bro's sake, not his own. Bro knew this too.

"You're not gonna make my dick sick. But hey, if you don't want to, we could just go to bed…" Bro acted casual and started to get up.

"No, I do, but…!" Dave pulled Bro back down, wincing when the sudden motion gave him a sudden cramp. Bro raised an eyebrow. "I was just asking if it was still okay or not,"

"I don't care," Bro shrugged. Dave nodded, paused briefly as he thought about…something, it didn't matter because he quickly forgot about it and leaned forward. The zest of bile was deep in his mouth as he and Bro gave one another some tongue action. "Bro, this is weird…this wouldn't be a kink of yours or something…" Dave started.

Bro shrugged again. "You're hot as fuck right now, and I mean that literally," He added the second part in when he saw Dave smirk, "so maybe it'd feel better."

"Can't argue with that logic," Dave almost forgot how sick he actually was. He was still shiny with sweat, he was still breathing deeply and shaking, he was still chilled to the bone but with a hot-as-hell fever…either way, he found himself at Bro's groin, unzipping pants and pulling out a hardening erection.

Bro was right, after all. His mouth was four times hotter than usual. Bro was jerked back slightly when Dave took in as much as he could without gagging. He sighed in enjoyment, pleasure tingling the tip of his member. Dave couldn't do as well as he normally did, his gag reflex hypersensitive now. But he tried to make up for it, pumping a little faster, fondling a little firmer. He reasoned he couldn't be lazy in the slightest.

Bro leaned his head back against the wall, allowing himself to grin ever so. Sick or not, Dave still gave a great blowjob. One of the leather-gloved hands came to rest on Dave's head, which was bobbing up and down. Imagine if someone caught the antics the two Striders got up to…like, 2 in the morning, engaging in, literally, sick incest.

After a while, Dave began to taste precum and he knew what that meant…ignoring how badly he gagged whenever he tried to deep throat, he swallowed as much of Bro as he could. He whipped back, nearly puking, half of Bro's load in his mouth and other half now splattered on his lips and nose.

He had to take a moment to fight back gagging. He was calming…the gagging and urges were stopping…Bro pulled him into a sloppy kiss. Saliva, cum, and a bit of bile…Dave was seriously questioning Bro by this point. Alas, Bro just picked him up, helping Dave clean off whatever was on his lips, cheeks, and nose and walked off to the bedroom.

Dave closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Bro licking his face. At this point, he was pretty certain he was done puking…that last fit of gags produced nothing. And if he wasn't…well, maybe tonight will be the second night Bro is woken up by Dave vomiting on him.


End file.
